


Take Care of Me, Please?

by southbroflovski



Category: South Park
Genre: Anesthesia, Best Friends, Caretaking, Confessions, Eric Cartman Being Eric Cartman, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Light Angst, M/M, Romance, Slight Kenny McCormick/Butters Stotch, Surgery, Teen Romance, Teenagers, Wisdom Teeth, style, tw/minor blood and needles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-29
Updated: 2020-07-29
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:07:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25561819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/southbroflovski/pseuds/southbroflovski
Summary: Kyle’s been reluctantly convinced to let Stan, Kenny, and Cartman take him to get his wisdom teeth out. The only issue is that he’s terrified he won’t keep his mouth shut under the effects of anesthesia.
Relationships: Kenny McCormick/Leopold "Butters" Stotch, Kyle Broflovski/Stan Marsh
Comments: 20
Kudos: 156





	1. Morning Of

**Author's Note:**

> This is going to be a few chaptered fic. There is a tw for slight bleeding from after surgery and for needles. I rated it teen+ audiences for harsh language even though it’s South Park, which is self explanatory.

It was 7:00am, just an hour or two before Kyle typically woke up in the morning. He naturally walked downstairs to the kitchen to grab breakfast, but remembered he couldn’t eat this morning. With a groan, he travelled to the couch and past his mother who was typing erratically on her glowing laptop.

As he plopped down with a sigh, she questioned from the table, “Bubby, are you sure you want your friends to take you? Who’s going to be driving?”

“You said you had a lot of work to do. They can take me. We already planned on it. And Stan is. He’s a good driver, Mom,” Kyle answered. If he were being honest, it was nerve wracking knowing he didn’t know what coming out of anesthesia would be like or what he would say. With either his friends or his mom, he’d be terrified of telling them something they shouldn’t hear. More specifically, he was scared of them hearing something that he wasn’t ready to say. The fear of coming out to his mom, maybe even unknowingly, was enough to convince him to go with Stan, Kenny, and Cartman. If he ended up telling them, he’d probably never hear the end of it from Cartman, but it was a lot less scary than possibly being kicked out of the house. It was his number one fear about getting his wisdom teeth out ever since he heard through the Internet that it happened to several other people. If he could choose, he’d rather have just Ike take him. He already determined that Kyle was gay on his own somehow and confronted him about it one night. Stan had just left the house and told Kyle he got back together with Wendy. He lasted surprisingly long before throwing a tantrum in his room—pillows being chucked, desk chair being flung. Ike heard it from his room over his headphones and came in his room to tell him to shut up until he saw his watery eyes. If only he could drive at his age.

“Okay, that’s good because I have to organize this rally,” she said, adjusting her rectangular framed glasses. “You boys better not be acting crazy afterwards, you’ll need to come home and get some rest.” 

“I know, Mom. It’s just gonna be Stan and I after,” Kyle says, still not entirely sure that they won’t be too much to deal with in the car alone.

He glances back at his phone before heading back upstairs to change his clothes. He rummages in his closet before settling on a semi-fitted navy long sleeve and some black, close-to-knee length basketball shorts. By the time he’s found what to wear and tousled with his hair in the mirror, it’s 7:25 and they should get to Kyle’s house soon. He frantically brushes his teeth, then wipes the foam off of his mouth with a square of toilet paper before running downstairs in his sneakers. He starts feeling nervous, but is unsure of what exactly, whether it’s something he says afterwards or if something goes wrong—though it’s only wisdom teeth removal and one of the most basic surgeries they do. 

Just as he sits at the bottom of the stairs, a ding sounds from his phone. It’s a message from Stan, simply saying “Here”. He gets up with a sigh, and waves bye to Sheila before shutting the front door. Kyle turns around to see Stan’s slightly rusted, white Chevy Suburban from ‘98. Kenny cheers out the open back window and they all join in. Kyle chuckles and starts walking down the dew covered lawn to the front passenger seat. 

Stan leans over, grabbing the handle to his seat, and pops the door open slightly. As Kyle slides onto the slightly torn leather seat, Stan looks at him with a smile and asks, “Are you ready, dude?”

“I guess so,” Kyle answers with a sigh, plugging his seatbelt in. He can’t help but smile back. 

“Kay, let’s go,” Stan says, putting the car in drive and pulling away. Kyle watches the houses pass by until they’re on the main road, with Stan’s indie music playing from the aux. 

“Stan, what kind of hippie shit is this,” Cartman scowls. 

“It’s Cage the Elephant, jackass. What do you want on? Lady Gaga?” Stan says back, earning a loud laugh from Kenny. 

“No! Shut up! Dick,” he shouted defensively before muttering something under his breath. Stan smirked in return. 

“Kyle are you excited to see what you’re gonna do afterwards?” Kenny says in a sort of devilish tone, shifting the conversation. 

Kyle throws his head back with a grunt. “No, not really.” 

“Hmm, do you have something to hide, Kyle?” Cartman inquires. 

“No, fatass. Do you have something hiding under those massive rolls of yours?” he answers quickly, trying and failing to restrain his anger. He really has no reason to get angry besides the fact that it’s Cartman, which is annoying in itself. 

“Interesting,” Cartman sneers, making Kyle roll his eyes. “But fuck you.”

“I’m definitely recording you. This is gonna be so funny,” Kenny says laughing. “You better not be a crier.”

“I wanna watch it after, but if you post it I swear, Kenny—“ Kyle starts before being cut off.

“I won’t! I won’t! I promise.”

With that, the song changes and a string of “oh’s” erupts from the car’s speakers. Kyle looks up at Stan, who starts singing along loudly with a grin plastered on his face, then back at Cartman after recognizing the song. He turns a bright shade of red and crosses his arms. “You stupid pussy, Stan.”

Kenny dances from the backseat as Stan begins to sing the familiar “rah rah ah-ah-ah” in the intro to “Bad Romance” by Lady Gaga. He glances over at Kyle when the road adjusts straight, singing mockingly. Kyle feels his heart lighten and laughs. 

“Screw you guys, it’s not that funny,” Cartman argues. 

Kenny starts the first verse, motioning dramatically, “I want your ugly, I want your disease.” 

Kyle joins in, and jokingly bites his lip seductively while looking at Stan. They both giggle, struggling to suppress their laughs before finally belting out the chorus.

They all scream out at the beat drop, nearly shaking the car with their bouncing, which you’d think would get them pulled over, but the cop they pass doesn’t seem to mind. It goes unsaid, but Kyle knows that this is one of those moments he wishes he could hold in his mind and replay whenever he wanted to. He wishes he could envision in the far future the way Kenny bounced around loosely and punched Cartman until he joined them, how he and Stan locked eyes with each other while scream-singing in the car, and how he felt carefree in that moment. 

The song ends, and Stan looks down at the GPS before announcing, “We have like 2 minutes left.”

“Sweet,” Kenny says, rubbing his hands together and giving Kyle a slap on the shoulder. 

Kyle’s mostly lost in his thoughts for the short remainder of the ride, ignoring the background conversation in the car. He’s snapped out of it when Stan puts the car in park in front of the oral surgeon office and says, “You ready, dude?” accompanied with a slight nudge to the arm. 

“Yeah, let’s go,” he responds with a light smile. Kenny laughs, imagining what might happen. Stan opens the door and gestures Kyle in, bowing. “Thank you, sir.”

Stan discreetly puts his foot out while holding the door for Kenny and Cartman, tripping Cartman who makes an irritated noise, but not Kenny who emphasizes his step over Stan’s leg. 

Stan follows them inside with his hands resting in the pockets of his brown coat and they gather at the reception counter. Kyle signs himself in while Kenny and Cartman can be heard messing around behind him. The receptionist doesn’t look fond of them. “Thank you, young man, you can wait over there until the doctors come get you,” she directs with a point towards the waiting area. Stan gives her a friendly smile before following Kyle to two chairs across from Kenny and Cartman. 

Stan began quietly, “Hey what were—“ 

“Excuse me, sir?” The receptionist interrupted from over the counter. She glanced down at some sheets of paper then continued, “Kyle? Broflovski, is it?”

Kyle peeked around Stan’s head and slowly stood up. “Yes? That’s me.”

She waved him over to the counter. He gave a look at Stan in confusion before walking over to the counter. Kyle placed his fingers over the edge as the woman spoke, “It says here that you’re doing a wisdom teeth removal, yeah?” He nodded in confirmation. “Are your sleeves able to slide up?” 

Kyle pretended to understand why she’d ask such a question while attempting to push up the navy sleeves of his basketball tournament shirt. They barely got to his elbows. “Okay, Mr. Broflovski. Do you possibly have another shirt with short sleeves? The doctors will need to put an IV in your arm and it’s best to put it on your inner elbow.” 

Stan seemed to hear this and when Kyle turned around he shrugged his brown coat off his shoulder and tugged on the edge of his t-shirt sleeve. “Oh, uh, yeah. I just need to change,” Kyle answered.

“Thank you,” the woman said, redirecting her gaze to the stack of sheets in front of her. 

Kyle and Stan met in the middle of the room and worked to find the bathroom together. They walked into the larger, accommodating stall and locked it. 

“Is mine even gonna fit you?” Kyle asked, pulling the tight-ish crew neck up over top of his head. “It’s already tighter on my arms.”

“I don’t know. I have my jacket, though.” Stan suggested, removing his arms from the staticky sleeves.

“Thanks, dude. And what were you going to say before I got up?” 

He pauses with jacket in hand, “Oh. I was gonna ask what you were worried about in the car. I know you said you weren’t really, but I can tell. Don’t lie,” he told him, raising his dark eyebrows.

Kyle leaned his head to the side and managed an “ugh” while exchanging shirts. The black cotton felt beautifully soft in his calloused hands. “I just don’t want to say something dumb. I don’t know what it’s going to be like or if I’ll be able to control what I say. Plus,” he began to add, slapping his hands to his sides for emphasis, “Cartman’s in the car,” he explained reasonably. 

“Oooh, do you have a secret I should know about?” Stan teased.

“No, Stan,” Kyle answered in a light tone, hoping his smile would cover up the lie. 

“Hm,” Stan hummed back simply as he tried to work his arms all the way through the shirt. He struggled for a moment and finally accepted defeat, not wanting to stretch or rip the fabric. “Kyle, I cant get it on.” 

Stan’s eyes poked over the top of the neck of the shirt and they both started laughing uncontrollably. 

“You stupid ass,” Kyle said jokingly.

“Help me!”

Kyle tried to suppress his laughs and went to grab the top of the shirt, but a second look at Stan brought out another laugh and he accidentally smacked him in the head. 

“Ow!” Stan complains, taken over with laughs again. He falls into the wall of the stall with a bang, and slides onto the tile floor howling. 

Kyle grips his chest and silently heaves, falling back onto the floor with him. It hits him that one of his hands is touching the bathroom floor and he screeches through his laughs, jumping to wipe his hand on Stan’s leg.

“Hey!” Stan shouts. Kyle chuckles again before standing back up. “Help me up.”

Kyle reaches for his forearms stuck upright and pulls up, lifting Stan without his help, until the shirt yanks off and he falls back on his ass again. 

They erupt in giggles somehow louder than before, taking turns shushing each other through it when they acknowledge where they are. 

The creak of the door breaks up their noise, and they hold their breath until hearing that it’s Kenny notifying, “Hurry up, they’re ready for you, Kyle.” 

“Okay,” they reply in unison. 

The heavy door falls shut. Stan chucks his black tee at Kyle’s bare stomach that somehow found its way back into Stan’s hands. “Put my shirt on,” he commands with a sore jaw from smiling. 

“I’m going!” Kyle snickers, pulling the loose fabric over his poofy curls. 

Stan’s jacket is back on, zipped up. “You good?” 

“Yeah.”

“Okay,” Stan returns, twisting the stall’s lock open. They walk out of the bathroom with small smiles still holding up and see Kenny and Cartman standing with a brunette woman in scrubs. She’s likely waiting for Kyle, clipboard in hand. 

Stan and Kyle recognize Kenny’s smirk and can tell he’s flat out flirting with her. Cartman on the other hand is standing uncomfortably to the side. He was never fond of doctor’s offices, more specifically needles, though it wasn’t even the same type of office. The woman turns around, feeling the presence of the boys behind her. “Hi, you must be Kyle,” she greets kindly, offering her hand to shake professionally. “I’m Dr. Mia Finni and will be assisting Dr. Mendez, the oral surgeon, with your wisdom teeth removal today.” 

“Hi,” Kyle replied simply, returning the gesture and shaking her hand. 

“It’d be best if only one other person came to the room in the back with you before surgery today, if you don’t mind.”

Kyle’s eyes went straight to Stan without a second thought. “I’ll come back with you,” he accepted. 

“See you after. Have fun, Kyle,” Kenny spoke.

“Yeah, Kyle. Enjoy yourself with Stan in that ‘back room’,” Cartman sneered. 

“Shut the hell up, fatass.” Kyle refrained himself from taking insults further just in case he made a bad impression on the doctors that would be performing his surgery. “Sorry,” he apologized to her, more from Cartman’s immature behalf. 

“No worries,” she said, despite being clearly annoyed. “Follow me.”

Stan turned around quietly and mouthed “fuck off” to them, earning a chuckle back, before walking away. Dr. Finni led them down the hall and around a corner into a relatively small room with a large chair in the center and one off to the side. Kyle took a seat in the center of the room and Stan on the side. She began running through the short list of questions that included, “Did you eat anything this morning before you came here?” and checked some of his vitals as well. 

In the midst of it, a middle aged man with thinning reddish-brown hair strolled in. “Hello, I’m Dr. Mendez. Nice to meet you. You’ve met Dr. Finni, I presume,” he states, gesturing to her while she scribbles on a paper. 

Kyle’s too busy thinking about how proper and fancy it is that he said “presume” to answer without hesitation. Stan hovers over the chair and answers instead kindly, “Yeah. Hi, I’m Stan,” and shakes his hand firmly. 

“Hello, Stan. And how might you two be related?” He questions. 

Kyle tunes back into the conversation almost as fast as he zoned out. “He’s my best friend.”

“Okay, I see.” He nods, giving a knowing look. It makes them both sort of uncomfortable to be under his gaze, not knowing what that look was for, but they decide to let it go. 

He explains the general surgery process to them again and the aftercare procedures, just in case the brochure from Kyle’s previous consultation wasn’t enough. The doctor finishes up and finally says, “Okay, are you ready to head back?”

“Yep,” Kyle confirms while rubbing his sweaty palms on his knees before standing up. 

“You can follow me, and Stan you can head back to the waiting room. Dr. Finni will come back to get you when the surgery is over.”

“Sounds good,” he answers, boosting himself up off the squishy generic doctor’s office chair. Dr. Mendez slowly leaves the room, followed by Kyle, then Stan, then Dr. Finni. Before turning the other way, Stan nudges Kyle in the shoulder with his fist encouragingly. Kyle’s red curls bounce lightly as he swivels around and they exchange a smile. They part ways and Kyle finds himself in a room similar to the last one, but colder, bigger, and with a lot more equipment.

“Take a seat,” Dr. Finni directs him, gesturing towards the large chair. Kyle does as follows and settles in. As they seemingly prepare the things they need, the oral surgeons make conversation with him. Dr. Finni asks, “So, are the other two guys that were here with you your best friends, too? Or just Stan?” She takes a latex band and ties it tightly around his arm, preparing to put in the IV.

“Yeah, Kenny, the blonde one, but Stan’s like my super best friend, though,” Kyle explains, cringing at the term he and Stan called themselves since the age of 10, and even now on occasion. 

“Are you guys just super best friends?” She questions, cleaning his inner elbow with a small cloth. 

It’s not that Kyle is afraid of needles, but they make him uncomfortable, which would make sense. He starts gradually talking louder and rambling to divert his focus as he hears the cap pop off. “No, uh, we’re just friends. What else would we be?” He relaxes after it's finally in. 

She shrugs. “I don’t know, just asking. He seems like a nice guy.” 

Dr. Finni tapes the IV down so it doesn’t fall or move as Dr. Mendez runs through how the anesthesia will work. “Are you nervous about anything?” he questions.

“I’m good, I’m just afraid I’m gonna say something stupid afterwards and regret it.”

“That makes sense. At least you’re with your friends, though,” he suggests, which isn’t necessarily as comforting as it should be. He places a tube with two extended pieces on the top into his nostrils. “Okay. I want you to count backwards from ten in your head for me. Ten, nine, eight…”

Before he knows it, the anesthesia takes him under and Dr. Mendez’s voice dissolves into thin air.


	2. Home is Where the Heart Is

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You’re an asshole,” Kyle turned with furrowed brows, lisping the end of his sentence. 
> 
> Stan smirked as he slipped into the car.
> 
> “Even high on anesthesia he still has no time for your shit, Cartman,” Kenny taunted.

Back in the waiting room, the three boys are playing an intense game of uno. The small blue seats and low table made for toddlers is uncomfortable but manageable. Stan isn’t sure why they have it in the corner of an oral surgeon’s office, but he’s thankful to have Uno to keep them occupied over the hour instead of Cartman’s antics. To tell the truth, he was already worried that Cartman himself would be too much while Kyle’s in pain after surgery, and maybe even Kenny, too. Kenny is particularly good in emotional situations when need be, but this is different. The last thing Kyle needed was to be getting into shit when he just needed rest.

“UNO!” Cartman shouted embarrassingly loud, slapping a blue skip card on the unkempt pile. 

“Dude, be quiet,” Stan whisper shouted. 

He snickered in return. “You’re just mad because I skipped you, pussy boy.” He paused, looking dramatically thoughtful. “Or should I say dick boy, since you’re all over that one of Kyle’s?”

Stan just rolled his eyes in annoyance. It wasn’t anything new. The baselines of Cartman’s jokes tended to follow very few differing themes. The gay jokes were evidently the focus for today.

Kenny smirked from under his thick hoodie before sharing a glance with the both of them. He revealed his last card, a blue 2, and lightly set it atop the pile. “I win. Again,” he announced nonchalantly, stretching his arms to cradle the back of his head. 

“Damn it, Kenny! That’s probably the 6th time now,” Stan sighed, dropping his remaining 3 cards to the table. 

“Fuck you, Kenny,” Cartman sneered, crossing his arms over his chest before leaning back. He either forgot how big he was or that he was sitting in a child’s chair. It tipped over immediately and Cartman flailed his arms before smacking the back of his head on the wall behind him. Making a noise of dramaticized pain, he slowly rolled off the chair to stand up. 

Stan and Kenny were struggling to contain their laughter, but not for the sake of Cartman—just for the sake of not breaking the silence hanging over the office. Stan was breathily heaving and slowly flopped off of the merely foot tall chair and onto the floor next to Kenny, who accidentally let out a shriek. Once he broke, Stan broke. “Screw you guys, I’m going to the car,” Cartman mumbled. Kenny and Stan started slapping and punching each other in the arms in a pile of laughter. 

“That was so fucking funny,” Kenny chuckled, gasping for air in between words. 

“That was the best thing that happened all day,” Stan wheezed, leaning his back onto Kenny’s shoulder. His cheeks began to burn with the relentless smile that couldn’t be wiped off of his face.

They both ended up on their backs on the rough carpet in the midst of catching their breath. A door creak sounded from the opposite end of the room, causing Stan to shoot up urgently. 

“Stan?” Dr. Finni calls, waving them over. At her voice, Kenny finally springs up and they walk over.

“Is he ready?” Stan inquires.

“Yes,” she answers. “He’s in a chair in the back room. We’ll have both of you boys walk him to the car, since he probably won’t be able to well.”

She pulls out a red plastic bag of what looks to be filled with gauze and things for aftercare. “Here’s the bag of gauze, it will need to be changed as needed or every couple of hours. The directions are in the bag, since you’re the one taking care of him after, I presume?” Stan nods in confirmation. 

“Okay follow me,” she directs them. 

They end up strolling past the previous room Stan went into a seemingly longer hour ago. 

“Oh shit, I gotta get my phone out,” Kenny whispers from behind Stan.

“Hurry up, dude. You don’t wanna miss anything funny.”

They turn the corner and Dr. Finni gently pulls back a curtain. Dr. Mendez is working on a laptop next to Kyle, who is seated in a squishy chair, his head resting sideways on his shoulder. 

When the curtain recedes to reveal Stan and Kenny, Kyle perks up and his expression noticeably changes from dull-like to that of a kid who saw a unicorn. “Stanny!” He shouts giddily, mouth agape, reaching an arm out. 

Stan can’t help but smile. “Hi, Ky,” he says, lightly grabbing his forearm before sitting in the chair a corner away from Kyle. 

Kyle sees Kenny, who didn’t hesitate to start recording, and reaches for him, making an odd inaudible noise. 

Kenny adjusts his grip on the phone to touch Kyle, who’s acting a bit whiny. “Hey, buddy,” Kenny chuckles. “How you doin’?”

Kyle just repetitively opens and closes his mouth, looking confused. Stan can help but laugh and fond over how stupid he’s acting, even though Kyle’s sitting there with a mouth full of blood and gauze. 

It isn’t long before the red soaked gauze flops out of his mouth, onto the tile in front of him with a splat. “Oh no!” Kyle gasped, appearing genuinely scared. Stan and Kenny glanced at each other while Kenny redirected the camera to get Stan’s reaction. He was working hard to suppress a laugh and looked like he was going to explode. “My tongue fell out! Oh my god! It fell out! My tongue is gone!” Kyle exclaimed with slurred words. 

Stan and Kenny were incapable of keeping it together at this point. Stan brought his fingers to his nose and closed his eyes, biting his lip in an effort to stay quiet with the doctors around. 

“Ohhhh no!” Kyle grumbled sadly.

“You’re okay, Kyle,” Dr. Finni said, smiling and bending down to pick up the slimy gauze. As she disposed of it, Dr. Mendez helped an uncooperative Kyle replace it. 

Dr. Mendez reached for the hand sanitizer atop his mobile computer cart and went through the whole “do you have any questions?” ordeal. Kyle just sat, kicking Stan’s foot and humming a song they couldn’t quite make out. 

“Okay, that sums it up. You boys carry him to the car and Dr. Finni will help you out.”

“Yes, thank you,” Stan said, shaking his hand. 

Kenny sighed, realizing he had to put his phone away and couldn’t record _everything_. “Alright, come here, Kyle,” he said, bracing a very high, groaning Kyle under the shoulder with his arm. 

“Ken-ny, Ken-ny, Ken-ny,” Kyle rolled the name gradually off his numb tongue. 

“Yep, that’s me.”

Stan laced his arm under Kyle’s open left one and around his waist to brace him on the opposite side. Kyle turned his attention back towards Stan, letting his head fall loosely to the side to stare at him. He wrapped his hand around to pat Stan’s cheek, giggling. “You’re weird,” Stan snorted back. Kyle attempted to stick his tongue out and blow a raspberry that naturally was very weak, considering the extreme numbness. 

“Ready?” Dr. Finni asked, already waiting beside the retracted curtain. 

Kenny glimpsed at Stan and Kyle, who were just staring and smiling at each other, before insisting, “Yeah, let’s go.”

The walk to the entrance doors was short and not much trouble. Dr. Finni held the front door open so they could walk through, then followed behind them to make way to open the door to the shotgun seat. “Thank fucking God you guys are done! That took too damn long,” Cartman groaned from the backseat. 

“Ugh, not this fucker,” Kyle protested in annoyance, earning a laugh from even Dr. Finni. 

“Shut up, man. Maybe if you weren’t such a little bitch you would’ve stopped whining and stayed inside,” Kenny chided. 

Cartman just scoffed as they helped Kyle slip into the seat without falling. 

When Stan stepped away from the door, Kyle looked longing, again reaching out for him. “Where are you going? Don’t leave me with him!”

“I’m not leaving you. I’m just going to the other side,” he told him, placing a hand on the edge of the car door. “Move your feet,” Stan commanded with a nudge to the legs. 

With the closing of the door, Stan and Kenny turned around to shake the hand of Dr. Finni. “It seems like you’ll be taking good care of him,” she smiled. 

“Of course I will,” Stan confirmed. 

She turned to shake Kenny’s hand as well, but turned to drop a wink at Stan at his words. “You’re a really good friend to him, huh?”

Stan paused for a second, feeling some sort of uncomfortable confusion. “Uh…yeah.”

“Well, good luck with him. See ya,” she withdrew casually, returning inside the building. 

Stan simply quirked a brow at Kenny, who shrugged. It wouldn’t have seemed that odd of a comment without the wink and tone of voice as if there were a deeper message under her words, he supposed. 

Before they each got in the car, they all noticed light flakes falling from the sky. It wasn’t unusual for South Park, but it felt more serene than a snowy day would in the secluded parking lot during the earlier hours of the morning. Stan couldn’t help but get lost gazing at the sky full of white dust with a hand on the open car door, sticking out his tongue in an attempt to catch a snowflake. The chill in the air reached up under his jacket and grazed his skin.

“Hey! Get your f*ggy ass in the car! It’s cold!” Cartman whined from the backseat.

“You’re an asshole,” Kyle turned with furrowed brows, lisping the end of his sentence. 

Stan smirked as he slipped into the car.

“Even high on anesthesia he still has no time for your shit, Cartman,” Kenny taunted. 

“Even high on anesthesia he’s still annoying,” Cartman mocked. He might not show it all the time, but he can be overly sensitive.

“Nah, nah nah nah, nah,” Kyle childishly tormented in a sing-song voice.

Stan turned the ignition before slapping the wheel. He looked at Kyle, asking, “Are you ready to go home?” 

“Yeah,” he answered.

“Okay, let’s go then.” He moved his hand to the gear shift to reverse out of the lot. 

“Oh shit!” Kenny shouted, frantically patting his jacket all over. 

“What are you doing?” Cartman asked, unmoved.

Kenny practically tore his phone from his pocket. “I almost forgot I need to record this.” He huffed, raising the camera. 

“Ooh, Kenny! Record me!” Kyle said, turning his head. 

Kenny chortled, “I am, Kyle”

He started to do vogue hand motions as “Come and Get Your Love” by Redbone played from the car stereo in the background. The chorus sounded out, singing the title, as Kyle stroked his chin in a silly way. “Come and get it, babe,” he spoke enticingly.

“Whoa, Kyle’s getting frisky!” Kenny whistled. 

Stan’s face felt hot as he laughed, almost forcefully, focusing his eyes strongly on the road in front of him. 

“That’s so gay,” Cartman derided.

“What’s wrong with being gay, fatass?” Kyle talked slowly to prevent the gauze from making him stumble over his words. 

“It’s fucking gross!” Cartman raised his voice. 

“Cartman, leave him alone. He doesn’t need to be yelling right now. His mouth is bleeding, dude,” Stan defended with growing irritation towards him. 

“Well, then I guess I’m gross, huh?” Kyle shouted angrily. 

The car fell silent for a second under surprise, a light uncertainty hung over wondering if Kyle meant exactly what he said. Not one of them knew what to do next.

The silence was overbearing to the music, until it was ruptured by a shriek. “Oh my fucking God! I knew it! Ew!” Cartman yelled at an almost startling volume.

“Cartman!” Stan scolded with an atypical intimidation in his booming voice. “What the fuck is wrong with you! You’re such a fucking dick! This is why we don’t hang out with you! We avoid you at all costs so that we don’t have to deal with your shit personality! Could you just shut your big ass mouth for one goddamn second? Oh my God, I’m seriously gonna shove you onto the road and run you over. Holy fuck!” He snapped, smacking a tense arm onto the horn of the steering wheel that released a honk in return. He brought one hand up to run it through his hair in stress.

Cartman choked with bulging eyes as he looked to Kenny for the backup he obviously wasn’t going to receive. “You shouldn’t have said that, Cartman,” is all he stated. Even Kenny was uncomfortably stunned at Stan’s unusual outburst and lowered the phone gradually, stopping the recording. 

Kyle looked over at Stan, who was red-faced. He was a bit embarrassed at his explosion, but not more than he was furious. Kyle basically came out as gay to all of them, whether he would’ve wanted to in his regular mindset or not. He still seemed pretty loopy, but that didn’t matter right now. He didn’t want Kyle thinking they didn’t care about him anymore because of it, or more so that Stan still cared about him. In fact, it almost made him feel somewhat hopeful. 

“It’s totally cool if you’re gay,” Kenny broke the silence, patting Kyle on the shoulder. 

“Yeah, Ky. We still love you the same. Nothing could change that,” Stan added on, playfully nudging Kyle in the shoulder to hopefully lighten the mood. 

He smiled back at Stan. “Thanks, guys.”

“Hey, I mean everyone’s a little bit gay, though, right?” Kenny lightheartedly threw in, leaning back in his seat.

“Uh, I think the fuck not, Kenny? I swear if your poor ass was fantasizing about me—“ Cartman feigned a retch. “I’m gonna puke, gross!” 

Kenny laughed, unbothered. “About you? Hell no!” 

“Fuck you, Kenny!” He sneered. 

“Why are you mad about that, Cartman? Did the gay get you, too?” Kyle prompted. 

“Absolutely not. Screw you guys.”

At minimum, about half of the car ride had passed by now, the snow falling down increasingly heavier. Stan couldn’t stop replaying the moment in his head of Kyle telling off Cartman while coming out. Part of him was saddened to know that Kyle kept that part of him hidden from Stan, and hoped it wasn’t out of fear. _To be fair_ , he thought, _there’s stuff I haven’t told him either._

Moments passed by, some filled with them all cracking jokes, quite a few of Kyle trash talking bananas or being extra goofy, and some of just comfortable silence, which they were thankful for over the tenseness just a bit ago. They finally reached the Cartman residence and a weight felt lifted from Stan’s shoulders as Cartman made his way inside. He drove off as soon as the door opened. 

“Where to now?” Kyle questioned.

“Uhh, your house, Kenny, right?” Stan checked in, glancing back at him. 

“Actually, could you drop me off at Butters’ place?” he requested. 

“Yeah, dude. You guys have been hanging out a lot recently.”

“You could call it that.” The message he was sending was well heard throughout the car.

“Jesus, Kenny!” Stan exclaimed. 

“Oooh! Kenny and Butters! You guys can be...bunny!” Kyle teased, acquiring a giggle from Kenny. 

“Why didn’t you say anything before?” Stan asked.

“You know how his parents are. I mean, I trust you guys not to spread anything. They’re already suspicious of me and think I’m a bad influence.” 

“Aw,” Kyle frowns with chubby cheeks.

“It’s okay, though. It’ll all work out eventually.  
Kenny says with traces of positivity in his voice.

The car slows to a stop in front of the Stotches’ place. “Looks like this is my stop,” Kenny announces, patting the seat. “See ya later, guys,” he departs, saluting them before turning around to jog to the front porch. 

The door swings open in quick time, revealing a blonde boy waiting patiently. “Oh, hi Kyle! And Stan!” he waves excitedly. Stan lifts a hand off the center console in response, and Kyle offers a monotone, “Hey, Butters,” the medication already starting to wear off and allow his pain to come through. Kenny goes in and Stan pulls off, heading towards Kyle’s house at last.

“My mouth hurts,” Kyle complains.

“The pain meds they gave are in the backseat. Do you want me to get them now?” 

“No, I can wait till we get home.”

“Sounds good,” Stan confirmed. 

Kyle starts fiddling with the radio stations, seeing as Stan didn’t hook his phone up to the aux. He was probably too busy dealing with getting him in the car. Kyle kept running through countless songs of different genres including pop, country, rock, and heavy metal. 

“Wait, go back one,” Stan told him.

Kyle adjusted the dial some more. “This one?” 

“Yeah, I love this song!” Stan cheerfully started swaying in his seat to the matching beat of the song and windshield wipers. 

It was unfamiliar to Kyle, who read out the name “‘Still The One’ by Shania Twain” glowing from the radio. 

Stan began to sing, dancing lightly in his seat. “You’re still the one I run to, the one that I belong to. You’re still the one I want for life,” he chanted, pointing at Kyle and making him cackle in awe. He’d never get over the way music made Stan feel so happy that he’d dance and sing. For that, he was forever thankful for it.

Kyle even started to join in once the chorus got familiar enough. It lasted for almost the whole drive over to Kyle’s. Once the song flowed to an end, he claimed, “I like that song. It might be my favorite out of all the ones I’ve heard you play.” 

“Is that so?” Stan pondered brightly.

“Yeah, I’d say so. Maybe it’s just because your general music taste is bad,” Kyle jokingly harassed him.

Stan flung his loose hand to his heart in pretend shock, grasping his chest. “Wow! I thought you _loved_ my music!”

“I have to say no to that one,” Kyle uttered, still grinning.

And all of a sudden, there it was: the Broflovski’s house.

“Good thing we’re here. Now you don’t have to listen to my type of music,” Stan joked, turning off the car and stretching back to grab the red bag.

“Can you help me?” Kyle begged, dragging out the end of his request.

“Yeah, I’m coming.” He got out of the car and walked around to the passenger seat. It seemed like the anesthesia wore off at least for the most part already, but Stan didn’t mind helping him in anyways, of course, especially since the new snow was already making the ground slicker. 

He opened the car door and offered Kyle his hand to step out. Kyle gratefully took it, shutting the door behind him. Stan maneuvered Kyle’s arm over his shoulders to make sure he was stabilized, holding onto his cold hand all the while. They made their way up to the front door, crunching through the blanket of snow forming around them. 

They moved into the house which radiated warmth from inside. As the door shut behind them, Kyle spun out from under Stan’s arm as if he were dancing and giggled. Their eyes locked and it felt calming in a way. 

“Here,” Stan gestured, still beaming. “Give me your foot.” Kyle lifted his foot up, and Stan pulled off both of his sneakers with his free hand. 

“Thank you,” Kyle said.

“Of course, dude.” Stan guided him over to the couch. “Are you hungry?” 

“Hell yeah I am! They didn’t let me eat today,” Kyle vented.

Stan nodded. “I know. So evil.” He left Kyle, who voiced his upset agreement, sitting on the couch to find something edible for him in the kitchen. 

Eventually he brought out a steaming plate of the scrambled eggs that Kyle complimented him on just weeks ago. He insisted what made them so good was Stan hearing the Food Network as background noise in the Marsh house all the time and the cooking tips burned into his brain. Honestly, though, Stan didn’t do anything special with them besides throw in a bit of basic seasoning.

“Here you go.” Stan handed him the plate complete with ketchup on the side. “Your favorite Food Network eggs.”

“Ooh, yay! Thank you,” he said, smiling at the plate. A look of realization crossed his face before he urged, “Can you turn around?”

“Why?” Stan wondered aloud.

“I have to take my gauze out.”

“I can, but it’s not gonna gross me out, dude.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Kyle ushered. “Do it anyway.”

Stan sighed but complied. 

“Ugh, ew,” Kyle muttered behind Stan’s back. He pulled out the cotton, disgustingly sodden with blood. It was almost unsettling to look at. He disposed of them as fast as possible in the trash.

“Can I turn around now? I don’t like looking at the wall,” Stan pleaded.

“Yeah,” Kyle responded simply. He moved his mouth over and over, feeling free again without the hunks of material in it, then began to eat his eggs.

Stan started flipping through the channels on the living room TV before turning his attention toward Kyle. The question had been on his mind all day ever since Kyle had seemed worried in the car. It bothered him that there was something Kyle was scared to tell him anything. “So, was the gay thing what you were worried about telling us?” 

A loud _clink_ rang from Kyle’s fork dropping and hitting the plate. “What!?” He cried out, looking distraught. An expression of worry crossed Stan’s face and he froze under Kyle’s wide eyes staring at him. “How did you know I’m gay?!” His voice faltered slightly on the word “gay”.

“You...said it—earlier in the car,” Stan explained tensely, unsure if he should’ve said so. It was already too late, anyways. 

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” he shouted, running his hands through his curls in distress and pulling his knees into a ball. “No, I didn’t. No, I fucking didn’t.”

It hurt Stan to see Kyle look so upset. He raised a hand to his back consolingly, “Hey, it’s okay. I still love you the same. Nothing could change that. I promise.” He felt so confused. 

“I don’t remember saying that,” Kyle muttered meekly. “I can’t believe it. That was one of my worst fears going into this.” 

_One?_ Stan thought. He pushed it far in the back of his head, understanding that it wouldn’t be the time to push for anything. 

“Hey, look at me,” Stan instructed him. 

Kyle threw his head back with a shaky groan, attempting to fight tears before turning his attention towards Stan. He struggled just to look him in the eyes. 

He tried to comfort him in a sturdy but loving voice. “We’re still us. I’m still here right now. Things are still the same. We still love you. It’s okay.” 

Then he broke. At the sound of his sobs, Stan pulled him into a tight hug, letting him bury his face into his shoulder. It wasn’t often that he’d seen Kyle cry, and that made it hurt that much more. Everything around them—the room itself, the tv playing, the smell of the eggs sitting on the table—came crashing down to nothing. In that moment, there was nothing except them, holding each other in a tight embrace. 

Tears streamed down to stain Stan’s jacket. The sentiment of it all almost made Stan burst out crying, too. Stan waited for Kyle to be the first one to speak when he was ready. 

“I can’t believe I did that,” Kyle whispered. 

Stan rubbed circles on his back delicately. “You could’ve told me before. You know I wouldn’t have been mad.”

Kyle pulled back, leaving his arm delicately hanging over Stan’s. “Stan, it’s not that easy. I thought that you would hate me,” he choked out slowly.

A softness settled in his eyes. “I know it’s not that easy,” he sighed. “I couldn’t hate you for anything. You’re my best friend.”

Kyle sighed back, leaning in again. “Can you hug me again?” 

Stan wrapped his arms around Kyle without hesitation. “I always can.”

“I don’t want you to go home today. Can you just stay here and take care of me, please?” Kyle mumbled with a sniffle.

“Of course I can,” Stan smiled. “I won’t leave.”

“Thank you,” Kyle said, squeezing tighter. 

“You’re welcome. I love you, Ky,” Stan reassured him with a light kiss to his forehead. 

Kyle smiled into his neck. “I love you, too, Stan.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully the ending wasn’t underwhelming. I decided to switch up from my usual writing and leave the ending really fluffy without a confession, since their love is practically evident throughout the story. If you enjoyed reading, I’m glad you did. My first story, Homesick, is still in the works. Love you all:)


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